


Informed Consent

by genarti



Series: old drabbles and ficlets [2]
Category: The Dark Is Rising
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-20
Updated: 2004-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All his choices have been his own."  Written in November 2004.  Short fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Informed Consent

Hawkin sits curled in a windowsill, knees drawn to his chin and arms wrapped around them.

No one disturbs him, though the servants pass often through this hall on a usual day. Perhaps it is coincidence, and perhaps his lord's command and perhaps his lord's great and mysterious art; Hawkin, for all he has learned, has never been certain of where that boundary lies.

His lord Merriman, who is father and liege lord and everything to him, has asked Hawkin to perform a duty for him, for the Light. It will involve danger, perhaps, he said, and no glory. No great feat of arms or strength, no risk of arrows or thumbscrews, but if the worst should happen and the Dark take advantage, it might mean Hawkin's life. Or worse, though he is not sure what could be worse. _Say yes only if you are truly willing,_ said Merriman, and his deep somber voice echoes now through Hawkin's mind. _This is not the only way, though perhaps the best._ And then he turned and left the room, and it was empty and echoing without his tall presence.

But it is for the Light, this task. And the Light is everything to Merriman, and his lord Merriman is everything to Hawkin.

Hawkin rises and walks down the long hallway with the reeds rustling under his feet, and goes in to his lord. "I understand, my lord," he says. "I will do it."

Deep-set eyes regard him for a long moment of silence that presses like a weight of iron, and then Merriman nods. His lined face is stern and grave, but the small secret smile of thanks in his gaze warms Hawkin like a hearth-fire, and it is enough.


End file.
